


the way to the heart

by cinqingship



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Codependency, Friendship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinqingship/pseuds/cinqingship
Summary: No one ever said reincarnation was easy, but it's alright. Especially when all Enjolras' friends live again with him.Although with the turning of two centuries, some habits have changed, as has access to things harder to acquire than before: education, medical care, and food.Now if Enjolras could just track down Grantaire.(or, the reincarnated amis are cuddly and codependent and chubby in the modern era.)





	the way to the heart

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this. From [this prompt](https://lesmiskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/11027.html?thread=14434323#cmt14434323) and [this prompt](http://chubbycourfeyrac.tumblr.com/post/109730867616/just-throwin-this-out-there-make-of-it-what-you) with a side dash of [this prompt](https://lesmiskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/11027.html?thread=13932307#cmt13932307).

Enjolras remembered the nineteenth century when he was six years old. The trauma and emotional upheaval of this was only negated somewhat by his best friends, Courfeyrac and Combeferre, also remembering, his mother’s soft embrace, his parents acceptance they’re son was an old soul, and the warm pastries his mother had the cook make for him as a special treat when he was upset.

Not being alone with the second personality in his head probably kept him sane. Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras were inseparable even more so than before after the realization they were, in fact, rebels out of place and time. Talking through their deaths and sticking close to one another through the next decade made the three of them a well oiled machine even more so than last time, and it was when both Marius Pontmercy and Éponine Thénardier reappeared in their lives they realized they weren’t the only ones returned. 

Joly and Bossuet fell into their lives next, quite literally, needing to be caught tripping down a set of stairs at school; Jehan and Feuilly followed, to everyone’s joy.

They would wait several years before Bahorel showed up, and by that time most of the group had fallen into a routine of gathering together to eat and sit and talk and generally care for each other. They all agreed they didn’t want to be separated again, so when the time came for university, they worked hard to get into the same school in Paris and quickly found an old boarding house that had been turned into apartments that had enough space for them. Enjolras’ and Combeferre’s parents both chipped in to buy the place and have in renovated. The whole reincarnated nineteenth century martyrs thing worried them enough to ensure their sons were as safe and comfortable as possible with the people that loved them as much as their parents did.

Bahorel turned out to be their orientation guide, so it turned out to be less of an introduction to the school and more an impromptu party catching up with each other, food and wine and music and them all splayed out on the living room floor covered in blankets and pillows. They fell asleep there like that, warm and overly full, curled together and clinging to each other.

It quickly became evident that when two or more of Les Amis wound up in the same space together, food quickly became as center as conversation. Bahorel jokingly complained about his ruined figure more than once before Enjolras himself caught on.

It made sense to him, that after a lifetime of undernourishment and occasionally starvation, none of them would fall into the habit of taking food, or access to food, for granted like so many in this century did. It also made sense that this led to many of them being soft and round, and all the more happy for it.

Now that Enjolras had taken notice he couldn’t help but observe and catalog the weight his friends had accumulated. Courfeyrac was likely the heaviest out of all them, their center and all the roundness that implied. Enjolras knew from experience he was warm and soft and ticklish, just as likely to tease as to cuddle, big belly jiggling as he laughed and wide hips gently knocking into his friends on the couch. Combeferre carried his weight evenly throughout his frame, more unfit than chubby everywhere but his stomach which sloped ever so lightly over the waist of his trousers. Marius was thin and wiry with his metabolism working against any extra weight, but he still had a boyish softness around his cheeks and belly. His girlfriend Éponine was also relatively thin compared to the rest, but plump in places that seemed to please her as much as they pleased Marius, much to everyone else having to listen to him waxing poetic about her beauty.

Joly was short again, but much stouter this time, and Bossuet frequently joked about them having opposite figures: a pear and an apple. Feuilly, much like Combeferre, carried his weight fairly evenly while Jehan was so tall it seemed a little strange he had such plump hips and and arms. Bahorel, of course, was nearly all belly, to no one's surprise when he started to catch up with them.

Different faces, different bodies, but the same souls, same temperaments. Enjolras loved them dearly and he was determined to see them all safe and as happy as he could assist in managing.

So when his friends started, slowly, paring off with one another, he was pleased. Marius and Éponine came attached at the hip, as did Joly and Bossuet. Jehan and Bahorel didn’t waste much time once reunited, falling into a relationship together by the end of freshman year.

Then Combeferre made overtures to Feuilly at the end of sophomore, and Enjolras wasn’t any less pleased… merely…

“You’re lonely,” Courfeyrac diagnosed for him, sitting together with him at the back table of the café. They watched Feuilly and Combeferre’s last date of the summer by the window far less furtively than their other friends scattered around the establishment. The newest couple clearly knew they were all there and seemed more amused than anything, probably because it was their last free day before classes started back for them like they had already for a few of their friends. Éponine and Bahorel were both here because their significant others were in an evening class on campus right now and someone had to monitor the situation for potential gossip for them, obviously.

“How could I possibly be lonely with all of our friends around, quite possibly all the time. We’ve become incredibly co-dependent.”

“Again. You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I don’t think we were quite like this last time, but I don’t think it’s bad. Do you?”

“Enjolras, we died together last time. But, no, I think it’s been good for all of us. Now back to the topic at hand, don’t think you can distract me-”

“-never-”

“You’re lonely.”

“No.”

“Lonesome then. Why? You never wanted a relationship, a romantic one, last time, what changed?”

“Other than the century?”

“Fair.”

“It’s not… strictly true, that I didn’t want a romantic relationship last time, I just… didn’t think it would be fair to-- to the other person. Hypothetical person.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes practically lit up as he leaned in. “Oh no, no dodging. There  _ was _ someone, I knew it! Who? Tell me, tell me, who? Oh my god.”

Enjolras laughed as Courfeyrac hauled him further into Courfeyrac’s side. “No one.”

“That wistful little look on your face belies that, Enjolras.”

“I-” Enjolras sighed and leaned his head on Courfeyrac’s pillowy shoulder. “It doesn’t matter, it was a lifetime ago, and he never felt the same.”

Courfeyrac stilled. “He? Not Feuilly, no, you would have said something for the sake of transparency, I know, but who else-”

Enjolras laughed again, softer, more bitterly. Courfeyrac would realize in a moment and Enjolras wouldn’t deny it, though he wished it weren’t ever true sometimes.

“Grantaire,” Courfeyrac gasped. “You. You loved Grantaire?”

“Love. I love him still. He died beside me, claimed himself one of us, took my hand and-”

“Enjolras-”

“I know, I know. He never would have wanted me-”

“Enjolras-”

“And we did nothing but argue and he despised everything I believed in-”

“ _ Enjolras _ -”

“He called me an ingrate and I told him he wasn’t even capable of  _ dying _ -”

“ _ Enjolras! _ ”

Enjolras flinched back away from Courfeyrac to look him in the eye. Courfeyrac looked flushed and a little angry and more than a little heartbroken all at the same time. Enjolras knew he’d missed something.

“Oh, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac’s voice cracked as he pulled him close again. “I’m sorry.”

Enjolras went boneless against him, hands clenched in Courfeyrac’s sweater. “We still haven’t found him. I thought after Bahorel-”

“I know, I miss him, too. So do the others. You’re not alone in that.”

“I do miss him. I- I miss him and I want-”

He couldn’t finish the thought, it seemed too far out of his reach, as much hope as he had that they would find Grantaire, it seemed too much like tempting fate to say it aloud.

“We will find him, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac promised. “And when we do, I’m going to make sure the two of you get together.”

“Courfeyrac,  _ no _ , you don’t-”

“Too late!” Courfeyrac’s grin was wide and a little sharp. “Plans already formulating, no going back now.”

“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras warned. “If he doesn’t want-”

“If he doesn’t want you, Enjolras, I’ll not force his hand.” Courfeyrac’s smile softened. “But more fool he, if he doesn’t.”

“He won’t-”

“Enjolras.”

“He  _ won’t _ . Courfeyrac, he didn’t want me when I couldn’t turn a corner without some offer one way or another from shallow grisettes and shallower fops. There’s no way he’d want me  _ now _ .”

Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Enjolras huffed and pulled away, folding his arms over his chest. “Look at me. I’m not exactly… marble… anymore.”

And it was true. Courfeyrac was the biggest by far of their friends, and just as beautiful. 

Enjolras, however, had changed for the lesser, and it drove him a little mad that he would be despondent over something as ridiculous as his looks considering how much grief they caused him last time, but for all that had changed, they way they all grew up had also changed. Enjolras found he was just as susceptible to the looks-obsessed societal doubt as the next person when he’d been raised with it. 

He wasn’t bad looking, just average, and while he wasn’t displeased enough with his weight to make a fuss about it, there was no denying it didn’t to much for him or his figure. ‘Mom-hips’ was probably one of the kinder descriptions he’d heard and not untrue. Enjolras was sure he was only exceptional last time around in comparison to his half-starved compatriots, and so far, this new century had proven him right.

Courfeyrac, on the other hand, clearly didn’t agree. He looked angry. Angrier that Enjolras had seen him in a long time. Enjolras didn’t want to be confronted or comforted any longer, so he decided it was time to head home.

Courfeyrac clearly had doubts about letting him leave on his own, but let him go, likely deciding to wait for Marius and Jehan to join them all in their very terrible spying.

Enjolras texted that he’d made it safe when he closed the door behind him, and got the curt reply. No doubt Courfeyrac would be having words with him later but all Enjolras wanted now was a long bath and a good night’s sleep before his eight o’clock class in the morning.

Of course, when Marius burst in with Jehan close behind him, panting and holding a stitch in his side, Courfeyrac regretted letting Enjolras leave for a whole new reason.

“Everyone! We found Grantaire!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The cheapest of cliffhangers, clearly.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and again, always taking prompts at [tumblr](http://cinqsanksunk.tumblr.com/).


End file.
